


When Dreams Meet Reality - A Battle of a Different Sort

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:46:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15628056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: During the war Craig Garrison had often tried to explain to the Powers That Be, albeit unsuccessfully, that when you're sitting behind a desk putting a plan together, it might look simple and foolproof - but once you're on the ground, putting that plan into action?  That's where the trouble could start.  He's now finding out the same is true of dreams.  When it's time to turn the dream of that 'consulting' business into reality, Craig Garrison runs into a brick wall.  Figuring out how to get the business started before the guys start getting into trouble leads to some uncomfortable revelations and one boiling-over temper.  Meanwhile, Meghada is struggling with some difficult choices of her own.  Just how much do their dreams mean to them?  Will their pride let them accept help when it's offered, to make those dreams come true?





	When Dreams Meet Reality - A Battle of a Different Sort

**Author's Note:**

> Post-war, shortly after 'Duration Plus Six Months'. No bullets flying, no diving out of airplanes, no explosions. Well, maybe one explosion.

He was in the office yet again, running his hand through his gold-blond hair in an absent manner as he reworked that ledger sheet over and over. Finally he pushed it all away with a sigh of frustration.

"Trouble, Craig?" Actor asked, standing in the doorway with a mug of coffee in each hand, walking over to put one on the desk at Garrison's hand. With a moan of appreciation, Garrison snatched up the mug and took a judicious sip.

"Damn, that's good! I kept meaning to stop and go get a cup, then I'd think maybe I had a glimmer of an idea and would forget about the coffee."

Actor sat at the chair on the other side of the desk, looked down at that ever-so uncooperative ledger sheet, "still haven't figured out how to make it work?" he asked sympathetically.

Garrison shook his head in disgust, "not and fit everything in. I can just about make it balance, if I totally disregard a third of what needs to be taken care of and just ignore that 'variable expenses' category. We can depend on word of mouth, a little judicious spreading of the news about the services we offer - no real expense there. BUT, this is going to involve travel, quite a bit of it, and it's not like the military is taking care of that anymore; appropriate transportation, accommodations, meals, all the rest, and we're not going to be able to budget that til the job actually shows up and we know where we have to go to get it done. We have to have the right clothes; well, you already do, and I can probably make do, but the rest of the guys need to be outfitted better. We need to upgrade the equipment. There'll be 'incentives' we'll need to give," as Actor interruped with a wry smile, "you mean 'bribes'," and got a smile and nod in return, "yes, whatever you want to call them. We got a deal on the truck and the car, and they'll do for now. The truck is serviceable, and while the car doesn't do anything for the image I want to put out there eventually, that's for the future. There aren't that many new cars on the road yet for comparison anyway. I have enough with what I've saved to maybe keep us going in the business for six months, IF everything goes right.

"But, Actor, we can't keep letting Meghada pick up the tab for everything around here! She's never said a word, never asked us for a dime, but there's always food on the table, gas in the car, we make all the calls from here, the mail goes out from here, Mrs. Wilson and the laundry, everything else, the whole setup. Everything she's done to make it a home for us, a base for the business." He paused to take a deeper swig of the Meghada-strength coffee, well-diluted with heavy cream to something drinkable by mere mortals.

Actor raised his brows, "perhaps we became too accustomed to it being that way, from almost the beginning; she rarely asked us for anything, except when she physically had to. (Story - 'Amateur Theatricals').

"Yeah, and when we got all of you back after that last fiasco, everyone was just too relieved to know it was all over, to be together, to think of any of that, any of the practical day-to-day issues. (Story - 'Duration Plus Six Months') Craig nodded, "but it's time for that to change. I caught her going over a proposal from her Uncle Neal last week, wanting her to write some new songs for two plays he has in the works, but maybe also doing a couple of concerts. And, I think, a proposal from someone else; she was frowning at that one, so she wasn't happy with whatever they were wanting her to do, you could tell. The writing she enjoys, at least usually, but you know she doesn't like performing in public like that. Seeing her sitting there, going over her own ledger sheets, going back to those proposals every now and again made me wonder just how close to the edge things are for her to even be considering it.

You know, Actor, I took a good look at the blueprint file the other day - the way the property originally was, what and how she expanded it to make it work for all of us. That had to have cost a bundle, along with furnishing it the way she did, start-up wardrobes for everyone included; add in what she's had to lay out to start all those special projects with the locals, all, well, mostly for the purpose of keeping things comfortable around here for us; the contracts on the surrounding land to maintain privacy here. That can't go on indefinitely. When I asked her, she told me things were alright, that she still had enough set aside for the property taxes for some time, and she'd manage. But . . ." He ran his hand through his hair again, and now had a slight flush to his face.

Actor agreed, "Yes, well, all of that is true, of course. Though, those special projects aren't just for OUR benefit, not in the most direct fashion. They should prove advantageous for the others involved also, and the community at large. Of course, that circles back and improves our position in the community as well, just as her buying The Doves did. But you are right; it's time for us to make a contribution."

Garrison gave a disgusted snort, "yes, and that's what I can't make work! Either there's enough to get the business up and running, at least for a few months, or there's enough for just about half that long, and adding to the till here; NOT BOTH. And it's going to take longer than that to put the business into the black."

Actor sat back and studied the younger man, wondering just how to broach what he'd been sent in to handle. Finally, realizing there was no easy way, no way that wouldn't result in a lot of shouting, he just sighed and reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper with a dollar amount written on it. He hesitated just a moment, then slid it onto the center of the blotter. "Will this make a difference?" he asked, waiting for the reaction.

Garrison looked at the slip of paper, eyes widening at the amount. "What's this?"

"That is our, well, you can call it our 'buy-in'; after all, this consulting business was to be a joint venture, was it not?"

Garrison pursed his lips and frowned, "Actor, I'm not asking YOU to frank this business. We don't even know if it will work or not."

Imperious eyebrows were raised at that, "of course it will work; we are the best at what needs to be done, locating and retrieving lost items. And it is not just ME, it is all four of us; we all contributed equally."

Garrison looked at him in disbelief, knowing that while Actor had never made any secret of his various assets tucked away here and there, that certainly wasn't the case for the others. He glanced down at that slip of paper once more. Then as the reality hit him, the only way Chief and Goniff and Casino could possibly have come up with a quarter each of the hefty sum on that paper, the shouting started.

At the other end of The Cottages, in the main kitchen, Goniff winced at the voice thundering the walls. "Well, never thought 'e'd take it easy-like. Think Actor can talk 'im into it?" They'd decided Actor was the only one who stood a chance at the job.

Chief snorted, "well, he'd better. We need to get things movin and that cant happen til the Warden stops trying to make that list of his stretch places it cant stretch."

Casino leaned back in his chair, snagging the coffee pot with one hand and refilled their mugs. "Yeah, then we gotta tackle Meghada. Hey, Chief, you looked at those deals she's got lined up. Think they'll work the way she planned it out?"

"Should, the people she's got in mind are solid, know their stuff. Still, kinda like the inside of a watch, all those wheels and gears all workin together. Somethin goes wrong in one spot, could be expensive trying to make do til it's all up and runnin again. Not just with us, but with the others that were depending on that one failed spot, and we're gonna have to help there too, til it's all back in place. They gotta know they can trust us, not having us leave them in the lurch. You still willin to be the one to convince her, Casino?"

Goniff had already bailed on the idea of HIM taking on that task; he volunteered to be the one to 'distract' her afterwards, and that got him the expected sarcastic reaction from the guys.

The safecracker looked very self-assured, told them with a shrug, "figured if she gave me any static, I'll bring it all down to how she's always said we're family. I'll tell her how it worked at home. Anyone bringing in any money at all was expected to chip in; big red and white canister in the kitchen held it all; when Mom needed cash for groceries, or bills, or whatever, it was there. If there wasn't enough, there was a family meeting and everyone dug deep." He shrugged nonchalantly, "it's what a family does, and since she keeps saying that's what we are, well . . ."

Meanwhile, back in the office, Actor had lit his pipe and leaned back to wait out the ranting and raving Garrison was going through. Finally, when it seemed to come, if not to a stop, at least to a significant pause while Garrison stopped to catch his breath, he threw in the next volley. "Oh, and there is this," reaching into his pocket to pull out a small bankbook, handing it over to the scowling man seated behind the desk.

"And what is this?" came in a terse voice from tight lips.

"Your own share. Not from the very beginning, of course, but later on. We took a vote, oh, I don't remember quite what prompted it, and instead of dividing any little, um, 'finds' four ways, we started dividing it five ways. Your account has Lynn listed as a beneficiary, then us. You can make whatever changes you want, now that you know about it."

"My share. From your little 'side-jobs'. And you expect me to take this?" Garrison was livid, that was obvious from the heavy flush in his cheeks.

"That is your choice, though it seems a better use for it, funding the business, contributing to the expenses of The Cottages, than letting it sit there til the Swiss government decides to confiscate it as being an inactive account. There has been some talk along those lines, you know; they are bankers, they would prefer to keep the money, if not under your name, then under theirs. And you can stop worrying about trying to fund The Cottages out of the business account. We will be approaching Meghada with a similar request to, well, not buy-in, of course, but with a contribution from each of us to partially offset the expenses around here, as I am sure you will want to do. It is only fair."

He got up, walked to the doorway, "I think I'm going to have another cup of coffee. Shall I bring you a refill while you're reworking that ledger sheet?" He got a hard glare, and had to refrain from the smile he wanted to give. Garrison was a smart man; eventually he'd figure it all out. 

Meghada had just returned from a supply run to London, and while she wasn't surprised to see the team gathered around her kitchen table, since it did seem to be one of the most popular spots, the speed with which everyone except Casino found a reason to depart made her more than a little suspicious.

"Did you stay to help me unload the car, or should I be worried?" she asked him, with upraised brows.

"We got something to say, and I got elected to do the talking," with a defiant yet determined look on his roughly handsome face.

She studied him, appraisingly, and sighed, "well, let's get everything in; we can talk now, or after, whichever you want." Obviously he wasn't in any great hurry for the conversation to begin, since they were finished, had put the last items in the pantry, she'd changed into fresh clothes before she joined him at the table. The bottle and two glasses pointed to Casino thinking this was going to be a difficult conversation, and she couldn't help worrying a little.

Things had been running smoothly, as far as she could tell, except for Craig's pacing a trail in the carpet over the budget. She'd known better than to offer funds; he wouldn't have accepted the offer, and frankly, she was stretched about as far as she could be. The various expenditures she'd made during the war, particularly the ones made to benefit the team in one way or another, well, those had eaten up much of her reserves.

What she needed was much the same as what Craig was looking for, something to add to the cash flow. She had various articles she could sell, but none she would be willing to part with easily. Better to parlay her skills to start another income stream; oh, not the fighting, but the music, the writing. That offer by Uncle Neal had started her thinking maybe that WAS the route to take, but while she was willing to work on some new songs for his new plays, she SO didn't want to do the concert route. She considered that a last resort, along with the offer by that other playwrite to write the music for HIS new play. She'd read it, hated the whole idea, it made her cringe with too many bad memories; no, she would NOT be a party to that - someone else could write the music for that one!

But the song-writing for Neal Hargroves wouldn't pay off immediately, only down the road, and only if his plays were successful and long-running, since she did that work not for upfront cash but for a percentage of the profits. The publisher was saying very promising things about that manuscript she'd left with him, but again, that was long-term. If she decided she had to add to the inflow immediately, it just might have to BE the concert route. She thoroughly was enjoying the role she'd undertaken here, did not want to be away from her lair and her treasure, but perhaps that was what it would take. Now, she listened as Casino presented his arguments, giving her another option.

"So, that's how it worked at home, and we was figuring it could be the same here, everyone droppin in something every month. Goniff even got a jar for it and everything," pointing to a deep blue and ivory figured bell-jar on the sideboard in the sitting area. She narrowed her eyes at that unfamiliar object, recognizing it for what it was, then shifted her attention back to Casino. He'd finished his explanation, not meeting her eyes til the very end. The anger he'd been afraid of seeing, the outright rejection, it wasn't there, just a warm and slightly rueful look of appreciation as she looked again at that slip of paper indicating what he'd called 'the start-up kitty'. She noted it was one extremely FAT kitty!

He sighed a heavy sigh of relief, "so, ya aint mad, right?" he asked, just to be sure.

She smiled and gave a low chuckle, "no, I'm not mad. I know Goniff had his stash, that all of you did; am I correct in assuming that it survived, more or less intact?"

He nodded, "yeah, no problems there. Just, well, we shoulda thought of this earlier, but with getting settled in and all . . ."

She looked thoughtful, "is Craig getting a similar offer," and had to laugh at the roll of those dark eyes.

"Yeah, Actor's workin on him; let him know about his OWN stash we set up for him too. Surprised the roof didn't cave in, he yelled so loud. But we think he's THINKING about it; well, there's no real way to make it work, not the way he wants it to, without a better cash flow, some back-up dough for when things go wrong or get slow or whatever. And none of us want you off singin someplace when you don't wanna do that. You wanna write, that's your decision, but we dont want you to be doing something you dont wanna do, not just for us." 

The others had been listening, waiting for an explosion, but when it hadn't come, they eased their way from the hallway into the kitchen, just in time to see Meghada drop a warm kiss on Casino's cheek.

"Ei! Don't see that's necessary, 'Gaida! 'E mighta done the talking, but it was ALL of us w'at came up with the idea, ya know," Goniff complained, but with a smile in his eyes.

"Yes, and I appreciate that, I do," as she gave each of them a similar kiss, leaving Goniff to the last. Her kiss to him was perhaps warmer, and if she was aiming for his cheek, well, her aim was well off; Goniff didn't seem to object too much, though the rest of them groaned loudly.

"But, I do have a question or two about that bell jar, laddie. Twelfth-century Chinese, I'd say. Very elegant. Might I ask where you got it, and should I be expecting the prior owner to be paying us a visit?" The dropped head and quick look through those sandy lashes, along with that sheepish grin told her at least part of the answer.

He gave an apologetic shrug, "figured if you liked it, I could maybe drop off the ready with Mrs. Wilson to cover the tariff later . . ." and there was chorus, in unison, "Goniff!!!"

He was mildly disappointed, though resigned, when she decided they'd just tuck it back in Mrs. Wilson's furnishings shed where he'd spotted it, and use that pretty painted canning jar instead. And she made a mental note to casually remark on the bell jar the next time she did a run-through of that furnishings shed, maybe tomorrow even, to be sure Mrs. Wilson realized just what she had; it would be a shame for someone to snatch it up for a pittance when it was worth so much more. In fact, if Mrs. Wilson was interested, Meghada thought she knew just the party up in London who would be willing to give a fair price. Just how much and who depended on how clean the provenence, of course - Aubrey Kilmeade if it was spotless, Dolores if it was slightly less than pristeen, Alphonse if it was non-existent.

The guys had headed over to The Doves for a pint, leaving an overly-quiet Garrison still working in the office. Meghada left him to it for just a bit, but decided enough was enough. Pouring two glasses of bourbon, she headed down the hall, pausing in the doorway. She stood there, observing as he sat back in his chair, head leaning against the tall back, eyes closed.

"Don't you think you've worried at that enough for one day, Craig?" she asked, and smiled at him when he opened his eyes and spotted her. She moved forward and handed him a glass, and made herself comfortable in the side-chair. He took a sip, gave her a weary smile.

"Too long, but I think it's in place." He frowned just a little, "you know what they did, right?"

She let the smile turn into a grin, "you mean about the stashes? Or about them offering to put their money into the business? Yes, to both. And, they're doing the same with The Cottages." That got her a long look, not disapproving, just considering.

"And you're okay with all of that?"

She snorted, "well, it's not like I was asked my opinion when they started their 'retirement fund'. I'd prefer future income be less fraught with the possibility of jail time, yes, but from what I was told, it wasn't as if they went out robbing widows and orphans, you know. The business should be a very good way of using their talents, keeping them amused, motivated, and NOT bored, and I think them contributing to the start-up is very good for them, giving them a sense of pride and ownership and responsibility. Not to mention, I don't see how else it's going to get off the ground, and THAT circles back to the guys; it's the best possible option I can see for them, Craig, to keep them out of trouble."

She caught his skeptical look, and laughed, "well, try to keep them out of too much trouble, anyway. With their talents, your leadership, I have no doubts it will be a profitable enterprise in time."

Another sip of her drink, and she admitted, "and I have to say it will be a load off my mind, knowing I don't have to be away on concert tours to replenish the coffers. Craig, it's not just the expenses now, you know, and not just for us. It's down the road, us and the village. There are going to be needs, needs that the locals will have a dire time fulfilling. I'd like us to be able to lend a hand; they accepted us, are more forebearing than many places might be. We've friends here. The shares programs will help, I know, but there will be more opportunities to enrich all of our lives, ours and theirs."

And they sat for a long time, discussing those opportunities, the possibilities. Eventually he even shared what she'd known for a long time, but refrained from mentioning until he did - that the guys had set aside a 'retirement fund' for him too.

They were still sitting there, talking when the others came back, and any lingering apprehension was alleviated when, at the final goodnights, Garrison turned to the men and said, "tomorrow, let's talk about those figures and the ledger sheet. There's a point or two I'd like your input on before we start forward." The guys exchanged a grin of triumph, and departed to sleep away the remainder of the night. Tomorrow promised to be a busy day.


End file.
